


First star I see tonight

by iscatterthemintimeandspace



Series: Starlight [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Kidfic, Not to be read without first reading They walk in starlight, Sequel, kiliel - Freeform, previous major character death, previously dead characters are still dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscatterthemintimeandspace/pseuds/iscatterthemintimeandspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to They walk in starlight. </p><p>A series of one-shot chapters on Kili's life after BOTFA</p><p>(Written before BOTFA)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kili could tell from the fatigue that it was not yet morning. The wailing of his children had awoken him yet again, and his joints protested as he swung his legs out of the bed and onto the cold stone floor. The nursery was connected to his own rooms by a doorway, and stumbling, he opened the door and walked in. 

His son Gili was pink in the face from his crying. The brunet crossed the room to his son’s cradle and reached down for him, bringing the weeping infant close to his chest. The dwarrow yawned as he settled into the wooden rocking chair and took a bottle from the vessel next to it. The bottle itself was made of glass, topped with a soft leather nipple, filled with goat’s milk and warmed by a vat of hot water. Although both his mother and Thorin suggested a wet nurse, Kili had refused. They were his children and he was going to be the one who took the responsibility for them.

He settled into the chair, nestling the now quiet dwarfling into the crook of his arm. Smiling and humming gently, he positioned the bottle against Gili’s lips and began to feed him. The archer had honestly been surprised how readily he had taken to parenting. It has terribly hard, that was true, but he found that he enjoyed spending time with his offspring. His son was a generally happy baby, only crying when he was hungry, which was every two or three hours, content to be rocked and sung to. 

As Gili suckled hungrily, Kili rocked back and forth, listening to the stillness that sat over the mountain. A little ways down the hall, his keen hunter’s ears picked up the out of tune sound of his brother’s voice as he paced and sang to his own son, Frerin. Fili’s son had had a cold all week and as a result had been utterly miserable. His footsteps grew closer and closer, until Fili’s frazzled blond head poked in through the door. 

“I thought I heard someone crying down here,” Fili whispered, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep. He entered the room noiselessly, holding his son against his shoulder. Frerin, although not asleep, had finally gone quiet and was snuggling against his father’s arm. Kili chuckled as his brother slid into the adjacent rocking chair. Seeing as the majority of the time, they were both up at nights, it seemed prudent to do it together. The both of them looked worse for wear, with heavy dark circles under their normally bright eyes and yawns plaguing them through their daily activities. 

“Gili,” the brunet replied, keeping his voice low in fear of waking his sleeping daughter. “As always. Like clockwork, this one. Alfrun could sleep through an orc raid,” he added, smiling. His daughter had been sleeping through the nights about a month now, ever since he discovered the twins both slept better when placed in the same crib. 

Fili smiled at his younger brother. “You used to sneak into my bed when you were a dwarfling, do you remember?” 

“Aye, Amad finally stopped trying to make me sleep in my own bed. I couldn’t sleep without you.” The brunet’s sleepy smile mirrored his brother’s as his son finished his bottle with a hearty smack of his lips. Kili brought the dwarfling to his shoulder and began patting him on the back, like his mother had showed him. 

Fili shot him an amused look. “Look at you, all domestic,” he teased lightly, through a hearty yawn. “Master hunter to mother hen.”

His words had the desired effect. Kili’s drowsy eyes flashed, and a smirk, which had been absent these past months, bloomed on his lips. 

“Wait till I put this baby down, Fee, I’ll show you mother hen,” the younger dwarrow threatened in a quiet voice, bringing Gili back to his lap. The dwarfling’s eyes fluttered as he yawned and snuggled against his father. “Just wait.”

~~~~~~~~

 

By the time Kili had gotten Gili back to sleep, it was time for his archery class. As opposed to the bow as Thorin had been when his nephew first learned to shoot, he had finally recognized the value of having trained archers at his disposal. After Tauriel’s death, he had immediately recruited Kili into teaching as a way of attempting to cheer him up. 

After gathering his supplies and asking his mother to watch the babies, the drained dwarrow headed off to the range, not entirely thrilled at spending another day in the absence of sleep. 

When he arrived, several of his students were there already practicing. A couple of them bowed their heads in respect at him as he began setting up their lesson. Finding young dwarrows that were interested in learning archery had been hard, and making them into decent archers was even harder. He knew many of them just signed up as a way to avoid the harshness of the mines. Most dwarves were more inclined towards hand to hand combat rather than ranged weapons and overcoming that natural inclination had been tough. Keeping them motivated and interested was a whole different battle. 

Soon the rest of his students arrived and Kili warmed them up with a few simple shooting exercises. One of the surlier youngsters at the far end of the range, a thorn in his side since day one was showing off to his friends, swinging his bow dangerously around.

“Eylir,” the brunet barked across the range. “Stop showing off. You’re going to hurt someone!”

Turning back to the student he had been helping, Kili distinctly heard the dwarrow he had yelled at muttering something derogatory to his friends, who laughed thuggishly. The archer flipped around and closed the distance between them in two steps. He caught what was clearly the end of their conversation.

“-those bastards he keeps secreted away in the royal wing. An elf whore’s bastards too, if the gossip is to be believed,” the dwarrow laughed gaily, seemingly unaware that his instructor and the topic of his senseless drivel was behind him “An elf, really? They’re beasts. Might as well fuck a goat while he’s at it. I’m guessing that’ll be his next paramour-”

“Care to repeat that?” Kili rumbled from behind him. He had been hearing similar whispers as he walked through the halls of his home recently. The majority of them were not friendly, and he thought this might very well be the last straw

Eylir’s face grew red at being called out by his teacher. He mumbled incoherently under his breath. Bastard was the only word Kili managed to catch. 

The brunet felt his cheeks flush as a wave of anger hit him. It was one thing to insult him, he was used to being called names, but Tauriel and his children were off-limits. He would have throttled the other dwarf, but his mother’s voice rang out in his head at the last moment. ‘For Mahal's sake, you are going to be a father! You cannot go around manhandling everyone who doesn't agree with you’, she had said to him. 

Kili growled deep in his throat, making the other dwarf eye him warily. “Pick up your bow, Eylir,” the prince snarled at him, looking him up and down, giving him no time to react . He had known a lot of dwarves like him in Ered Luin, swaggering, block-headed bullies, and it was high time he put Eylir in his place. 

“What?” Eylir asked, not believing the words that had just come out of the brunet’s mouth. Clearly he had been expecting a retort of a different kind. 

“I said,” Kili repeated contemptuously, “pick up your bow. We’re going to have a little contest, since you seem to think gossiping is more important than practice.” The prince grabbed one of the arrows they used for practicing and, walking over to their targets, stuck it in. 

“You get three tries. If you get your arrows closer than mine, you win. If you win, you get to skip morning practices.” The other dwarrow smiled wolfishly. He, like so many other students, hated getting up at the crack of dawn to practice until their fingers blistered.  
Kili smiled mirthlessly back at him. “But if I win, it’s back to the mines with you.” Eylir’s smiled faded slightly from his face, and he looked nervously back at his friends.

“That’s not fair! You’ve had more… experience than me,” he pouted. 

Kili grinned at him again. “You didn’t let me finish.” He took his rough handkerchief from his pocket and dangled it in front of Eylir. “I’ll be blind-folded, to compensate for your lack of… experience. You go first.” 

Kili positioned himself away from the others, his bow and arrows within reach. 

Thwack! thwack! thwack! 

He saw three arrows hit the target in quick succession. He heard the sniggers and congratulations from his rival’s companions. Taking a deep breath, the brunet tried the cloth tightly over his eyes, nocked his arrow and raised his bow. He listened for the shift in the wind and pulled back his bow accordingly. Letting out the breath he was holding, he let the arrow fly.

Thwack!

The prince heard a sharp gasp from his rival and smiled to himself. In the same way he loosed two more arrows, earning equally surprised noises from his students. 

Thwack! Thwack!

Hearing the last arrow hit, Kili whipped off his blind-fold to savor the shocked and impressed faces around him. He glanced casually at the target, smiling good-naturedly at Eylir, whose expression was the most stunned of all. His face had gone sickly pale and his mouth was open in surprise. 

Kili stepped closer, examining the target. Eylir had been a good shot, it was true, but his arrows where nowhere near as close as Kili’s. The prince’s arrows surrounded the target snugly, none of them touching it. 

The archer beamed at Eylir, his eyes twinkling brightly. 

“So I guess this is goodbye,” he drawled at the other dwarf, whose face had brightened to a shade of vibrant maroon in his anger. 

Eylir huffed and muttered something under his breath as he gathered his things and left the range, his friend’s terrified eyes following him the whole way. 

“Would anyone else like to join him?” the brunet asked chipperly, nocking his bow again. All the other dwarves in his class had fallen silent, not wanting to go back to the hard work of the mines.

“Good, I thought so. Now where were we?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis recounts her son's and Tauriels' relationship.

“What was their mother like?” Drifa, Fili’s wife, asked one morning while she and Dis were watching the babies tumble over each other on the rug. Dis looked up from her knitting and fixed her daughter-in-law with a warm expression. The older dwarrowdame had tried not to think about the mother of her grandchildren, but often found herself musing about her as she looked at the twins. 

“She was tall, willowy, like elves are,” Dis started slowly. She had only met Tauriel once, one afternoon long ago, when she was still pregnant. They had laughed over her failed attempts at knitting, and over stories of Kili’s childhood. “She had this intensity in her eyes, like a coiled spring. Even while pregnant, she had a graceful air about her.” 

“Looks- wise, she had red hair, the same color as Gili’s, and big dark eyes. Pale skin,” she continued, placing her knitting down on her lap. 

“How did she meet Kili?” Drifa leaned forward, her eyes smoldering with curiosity. 

“You should be asking Kili this, not me. It is not my story to tell,” Dis replied, reaching into her basket to retrieve another skein of yarn. She switched the color of the dress she was knitting for her granddaughter and took up it up once again. 

Drifa looked sheepish. “Kili won’t speak of it to anyone. He barely speaks to Fili about it. Fili told me what he knows, but apparently it’s still a sore subject,” she murmured, the click of her needles speeding up nervously. 

“Aye, it is. Fili and Kili didn’t talk for many months over what happened,” Dis explained. “Kili and Tauriel met during the quest. She saved Kili’s life after he’d been injured. According to what my sons have told me, they pledged to write and meet. Fili stopped their letters, trying to save his brother from what he thought would be inevitable heart ache.” 

Dis remembered those months vividly. Her normally happy son had been moping around waiting for the letters that were promised him. He played melancholy songs on his fiddle, only stopping when Fili forced him out of his chambers. At the time, the dwarrowdame had thought it was the aftermath of the battle that had caused her son’s depression. She thought it was seeing his family almost die that had brought it about, not a woman. 

“What Fili didn’t know was that Tauriel was pregnant and had been exiled from the Woodland Realm. Both she and Kili had kept writing, despite the fact that neither of them had received any letters,” Dis recounted, knitting slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alfrun, Gili and Frerin playing peacefully with the blocks Bifur had made for them. She went on. 

“One afternoon, my sons went to negotiate with Lord Bard in Dale, where Tauriel had been appointed the guard captain. When Kili saw her, he apparently threw a very unbecoming temper tantrum and found out that he had sired the babe she carried. 

Dis sighed. She recalled that day as well, Fili coming home with a bloodied face, and Kili storming around the mountain angrily, cursing anyone who got in his way. After Kili had calmed down, she had gone to see what the fuss was about and found out she would be a grandmother. She couldn’t say she had been happy at the time. In fact, although she hadn’t shown it to her already distraught son, she had been furious, because if all he wanted was a warm bed, he could have had his pick of dwarves, proper dwarrowdames and bucks instead of some elven lass. 

She didn’t warm up to Tauriel until she met her, shy and nervous at meeting her lover’s formidable mother. Dis had seen the way the elf’s eyes followed her son and lit up when he was in her company. She had seen the furtive glances and secrets smiles, the way she loved him. Dis had found the young woman endearing and friendly, eager to please. She had a warm, open laugh and an easy going manner that made her a pleasure to talk to. 

Dis also remembered how happy Kili had been in the months leading to the children’s birth. He’d come home from visiting her with a wide smile on his face and endless stories to tell. Her son would blather on and on about names and the baby’s growth, about how his child would kick when he heard his voice. Dis smiled forlornly. 

“The rest you know,” she murmured sadly. Drifa nodded dejectedly, her curiosity sated, at least for the moment. 

“Poor little mites,” her daughter-in-law said, putting her knitting aside to slide onto the floor and pulling Alfrun and Gili towards her. The twins squawked loudly at being distracted from their play, but melted into their aunt’s warm embrace. 

Dis watched them ruefully. It upset her that, as her boys had grown up without their father, as she grew up without her mother, her grandchildren would grow up without one of their parents as well. The line of Durin seemed doomed to lose parts of their families. 

The sound of the door opening pulled her from her sad thoughts as her older brother entered the chamber, his consort following hot on his heels, with a basket of treats on his arm. The toddlers squealed when they saw him, shimmying out of Drifa’s arms to be the first one into Thorin’s. 

The princess was again brought back to her sons, shoving and pushing and biting to be the first to receive her brother’s affection when he came home from the forge. 

Thorin bent down and scooped the three of them up in his arms. Alfrun reached for the shiny bead in his braid, tugging at it sharply. The King laughed, snuggling his grandniece against his chest. The boys had their small grubby hands in his full beard, babbling nonsense at him. Dis got to her feet, laying her knitting on the table and going to greet her brother. 

“They get bigger every day,” Thorin said cheerfully to her, leaning over to kiss her cheek. Dis could not help but smile. Thorin was a changed dwarf since they regained their homeland. Whether it was the pleasure of victory or something else, she didn’t know, but it was a welcome adjustment. Without the stress of worrying about where they were getting their next meal, her brother could finally relax, or at least relax as much as a king was able. 

He had the luxury now of being able to spend more time with his family, and he took shameless advantage of it, sparring with Dwalin and the boys, having family dinners and visiting his grandniece and nephews in their nursery. 

“Babies tend to do that, Thorin,” Dis reminded him gently, untangling Frerin and Gili’s hands from his beard and taking them from him. They crowed unhappily but quickly settled onto her hips. She motioned for Thorin and the others to follow her to the table to feed them. 

“I’d forgotten. It seems so long ago that Fili and Kili were this little,” he replied, nuzzling the top of Alfrun’s head against his rough cheek. 

Bilbo met them at the table, taking Gili from Dis’ grasp and plopping him into his chair. The dwarfling giggled, holding tight onto the hobbit’s fingers. Drifa took Frerin from the princess, kissing her son on the head before depositing him in his own high chair. 

Dis took her granddaughter from her brother. “I don’t know if they ever were this little, those brats.” 

Thorin chuckled, joining them for lunch. It was habit now, when he wasn’t bogged down with meetings and treaties, Thorin, Bilbo and whoever else could, would find their way to the princess’ chambers for their afternoon meal. 

Dis wasn’t at all surprised if she ended up with half the company or more in her rooms. Soon enough, there was knocking on her door, and Dwalin, Nori and Bofur entered, carrying bundles and trays. Dis also suspected there were toys for the children secreted away somewhere under the toymaker’s coat, regardless of the fact she’d told him they had enough already. Her boys followed soon after, covered in mud and dirt. 

Dis raised an eyebrow at them. “Don’t even think about eating before those hands are clean!” she warned them. 

Fili and Kili were looming over one of the trays Bofur had brought, hands over the steaming plate of Bilbo's homemade cookies. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Amad,” Kili responded, pulling his hand away and heading for the bathroom. Fili paused only to give his wife a kiss before following his brother. 

By the time the boys returned, Gloin and Gimli had joined them as well, also bearing parcels, which added to the piles of food on the table. Bilbo had set out the plates and utensils, smacking at whoever tried to reach for something before he was done. Dis took her seat and waited for the hobbit to finish, as she had no mind to be smacked by her brother’s husband. 

Kili sat down next to his mother, Fili beside his wife and son, and a pair of smiles graced their faces as they began to plate their lunch. 

Meals were always a loud affair with the dwarrow, and this was no exception. Dwalin and Thorin had launched into a very loud discussion with Fili over different training techniques. Bilbo was lecturing Drifa on various types of scones and cookies, as she fed Frerin. Even the twins joined in, flailing food all over an exasperated Kili, wearing more than he was getting into their mouths. 

Gloin and Gimli were recounting some story to a very bored looking Nori, who was taking advantage of Dwalin’s immersion in his own conversation to steal tidbits of food from his plate. Ori and Dori joined late, ink smudged all over their fingers. 

Warmth bloomed in Dis’ chest as she watched all of them. While she still mourned her father, mother, brother and husband, this was her family now. These dwarves and one small hobbit standing in for the family she had lost. She could almost feel her lost kin there, among her children, friends and grandchildren, watching over them. 

She set about freeing her youngest from the grasp of his youngest, silently sending Mahal a prayer of thanks for giving her all that she had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is about a 5 year jump from the last chapter
> 
> In which Gili and Alfrun learn their heritage.

Thorin was walking arm in arm with Bilbo down the main hallway in Erebor when he heard a commotion, loud surprised exclamations and the running clatter of small feet. His grand-nephew Frerin was sprinting through the throngs, panting and red in the face. 

He grabbed Thorin’s hand when he finally reached him, so out of breath he couldn’t get the words out. 

“Gili… Alfie… Fight… Courtyard,” he panted, his eyes filled with tears. The dwarfling was trying to pull his great uncle along as fast as he could, using both tiny hands to guide him. Thorin chuckled, being led by the child.

“I’m sure it’s alright, Frer. They fight with each other all the time.” 

This only made Frerin pull him faster.

“Not… each other,” he replied, slowly regaining his breath. The King stopped in his tracks, looking worriedly down at the child and then to his consort.

“Frerin, what’s going on?” he asked, kneeling to bring himself down to Frerin’s level. 

The dwarfling gulped and burst into fresh tears. “The blood, Uncle… The blood!” 

Those were the only words Thorin needed to hear. Scooping up the little prince in his arms, he and Bilbo raced towards the courtyard.

There was a crowd of children gathered in a circle when the King and his consort reached the courtyard. Accompanying the cheering of the crowd, there was the sickening slap of flesh on flesh coming from the center of the circle. Frerin slipped from his uncle’s arms, looking anxiously for his cousins. 

“STOP!” Thorin bellowed, effectively silencing the group, except for the fight itself and one small voice. With terrified looks, the majority of the children ran from the yard, looking over their shoulders for the terrifying sight of their King. 

Gili appeared to be captive under another dwarfling, who was twisting his arm around his back. The little boy was fighting valiantly to get away from him, but his small stature prevented it. The other child released him immediately when he saw Thorin and Bilbo, and Gili ran bawling into the hobbit’s comforting arms, babbling incoherently about his sister. 

Alfrun was on the floor, straddling a much bigger boy, her tiny fists raining down blows on his head as he struggled to get away from her. 

“I am not an elf!” she was screaming at the boy, her face contorted with rage and covered in blood. With ease, Thorin scooped the flailing girl-child from the floor and cradled her protectively against his massive shoulder. The dark-haired boy scrambled to his feet and looked up at Thorin with a petrified expression on his face. The King could see the bruises blooming under his eyes and the blood crusted around his nostrils. His arms were raked with scratch marks. 

“Are you alright, lad?” he asked, putting his hand comfortingly on the boy’s shoulder. The child nodded his head solemnly, sniffling and wiping his blood on the back of his hand. “Go find your mother,” Thorin said. 

Thorin joined his consort on the benches, Alfrun still shaking madly in his arms. As he sat, he pulled her down onto his lap to look at her face. Her cheeks were ruddy and spattered with blood, most of it dry. One of her eyes was swollen shut and she looked as if she was missing a tooth. The king smoothed her hair back from her face and was instantly reminded of another dark-haired youngster he mopped up after a fight.

 

_His brunet nephew was sitting sheepishly on his lap, pinching his nose and holding a blood stained cloth. His older brother loomed protectively in front of the younger dwarfling, silently assessing the damage, ignoring his own injuries. He had pulled Kili off one of the local dwarflings after a particularly vicious bout of name calling. Fili explained that the other child had called his brother a bastard and tripped him. They had tried to walk away like Thorin had taught them, but there had been too many of them. It was pure luck for both of them that their uncle had happened upon the scuffle on his way home from the forge._

 

Thorin looked back and forth between the other dwarflings. Frerin looked fine, not a scratch on him. Gili was sporting skinned knuckles and a bruise on his cheek. All three of them looked distinctly guilty. 

Alfrun refused to meet his eyes, instead looking at her brother and cousin. Thorin turned to his eldest grand-nephew. 

“Frerin,” he said seriously. “Please go find your father and have him bring your Uncle Kili he-“

“Udad, no!” Alfun chirped, her eyes wide with panic. “Please don’t tell Ada, he’ll be so mad!” She clutched his shirt in utter terror, tears cascading down her already wet cheeks. 

“He’s your father, little one. I have to,” the King told her gently. “He won’t be mad. Now tell me what happened.” His large hands rubbed comforting circles on the girl’s heaving back. 

The dwarfling curled her shoulders forward, staring at her brother seated in Bilbo’s lap. The hobbit was stroking the boy’s hair, murmuring comforting words to him, examining the bruise on his face with worry. 

“They pulled on my ear,” she confessed in one breath, gulping down her tears. Her hand ghosted over the pointed tip of her ear, which Thorin saw was red and scratched. “And then he- he shoved Gili,” her voice dropped in volume. “They called us elves.”

Across from him, Thorin watched Bilbo’s face fall as he rocked Gili against his chest. While things were somewhat better between their two races, much of the old bigotry remained. For a dwarf, ‘elf’ was still an insult.

“We was playing dwarves and dragons!” Gili piped up from against Bilbo’s jacket. “Alfie and me was the dragons!” He bared his teeth theatrically at Thorin. The King under the Mountain smiled at him quickly before telling him to hush.

 

Alfrun hesitantly continued. “Sefi hit Gili and… and… and I hit him back!” The dwarfling sniffled, wiping her bleeding nose on her sleeve. The King began to dab her face with a handkerchief borrowed from Bilbo. 

“They’re wrong!” Gili supplied ignoring Thorin’s earlier admonishment, practically bouncing in the hobbit’s arms. “We’re not elves, right, Udad? We’re dwarves, like you and Ada and Uncle Fili, right?” 

Bilbo shot his husband a pointed look. Thorin felt himself hesitate. It would be a twisted joke of the Valar indeed if he had to be the one to explain to these children the nature of their heritage. He, who had tried to convince their father that he hadn’t sired them. He, who had called their mother a whore. After five years, he was still trying to make it up to his sister-son. Luckily for him, he heard his two nephews’ pounding feet sprint up the corridor, saving him from the daunting task. 

“Sweet Mahal, Alfrun...” Kili swept in and grabbed his daughter, pulling her protectively to his chest. “Are you alright, Mizimelûh?” 

Alfrun looked up at her father and instantly burst into tears. Thorin could clearly see on the child’s face her fear of disappointing her father. It was an expression he had often seen scrawled on the faces of his nephews as children when they had looked to him for approval. It had taken him far too long to read it, and by the time he had, he had already damaged them. He wouldn’t let it happen to their children. 

“She was defending her brother,” Thorin answered for her, watching his nephews intently. “There was some name calling.”

Fili edged closer to his brother, a smile creeping on his face. The blond prince was standing close to Bilbo, his own child pressed protectively against his leg. Frerin kept sneaking peeks at his cousins. “Reminds me of another dwarfling I used to know,” he smiled playfully at his brother, who was examining his daughter’s face. 

Kili scowled back at him, rocking Alfrun back and forth, trying to comfort the dwarfling. “What did they say, Alfie?” 

“The- they,” she hiccupped pitifully, “ -called me an elf!” The child wailed, burying her face in her father’s neck, soaking his shirt with tears. 

A dark look passed over the brunet’s face. “Who did?” he prodded her again, trying to coax her from his shirt. Alfrun peeked out, her one open eye darting wildly from her cousin to her brother, but refused to say a word. Thorin watched a sickened look pass over Frerin’s face from where he stood next to his father. 

Gili began bouncing again eagerly in Bilbo’s arms. “Frerin did!” he yelled, his voice squeaking. “Frer called us elves when we beated him! The other kids copied him” 

Frerin launched himself forward, but stopped short of his cousin. “Did not!” he screamed back, his small face contorted in fury at the accusation. 

“Did too!” the small red-head insisted, clinging to Bilbo for protection. “You’re mad because Alfie and me beat you and Sefi. You called us elves first and pulled Alfie’s ea-“ 

Gili was cut off by the little prince’s anguished yelling. “Shut up, shut up!” Frerin’s face had gone red and his eyes brimmed with angry tears as he looked nervously at his father. 

The disappointment was clear on Fili’s face as he considered his small son. The blond picked him up and placed him next to where Bilbo was sitting on the bench. Bending down to his level, the older prince began to speak.

“Is that true Frerin?” Fili asked gently. “Did you call your cousins names and pull Alfrun’s ear?”

Frerin looked at his father and then at his uncle. He fiddled with the edge of his tunic.

“Yes,” he replied quietly, hanging his head with guilt. “But-“

“No buts, Frerin,” his father cut him off sternly. “What happened?”

Frerin considered his father for a moment before replying. 

“We was playing, and Sefi and the big kids wanted to play too. Alfie and Gili was the dragons and they beated us. I got mad. The dragons aren’t supposed to win and- and- and…” Tears were collecting on the child’s lashes as he confessed to his father what had happened. “Alfie said sometimes the dragons win, and I pulled on her ear. But then Sefi hit Gili and Alfie jumped on him!” By the time Frerin had finished, he was in full-blown hysterics. 

 

Fili put his hands on his son’s small shoulders. “You mark me well. There is nothing more important in this world than family. Your uncle Kili and I fought a lot as dwarflings, but we were still family. We protected each other. I expect you to do the same with your cousins. That goes for you two as well,” he looked towards Alfrun still being mopped up by her father and Gili on Bilbo’s lap. The two other dwarflings nodded their understanding, and he turned back to Frerin.

“If I ever hear that you called your cousins anything, it’ll be more than bed without supper, am I understood?” Fili asked his son seriously. Frerin nodded solemnly, not looking his father in the eyes. “Now apologize to your cousins.” 

 

Thorin felt as if he was watching everything unfold from the outside. He remembered every mannerism, every gesture, except there were three dwarflings now instead of two. The King had said words very similar to those Fili spoke. His heart swelled in pride that his nephews had picked up something from him. It made him feel that he had not failed them as much as he thought. 

Frerin’s face was still grave as he approached Gili, who slid from Bilbo’s arms. The little prince leaned in and pressed their foreheads together in an affectionate gesture. “I’m sorry, Gili.” The red-head readily accepted the apology. 

He approached Alfrun more warily, keeping his dark eyes on Kili. Thorin could plainly see the child was terrified of his uncle’s reaction. But Kili just smiled at him, as he wiped the last of the blood off his daughter’s face. 

“I’m sorry for pulling your ear, Alfie,” he apologized, his voice barely above a whisper. The girl’s eyes narrowed, but she accepted his head-butt just the same as her brother had. Without the blood on her face, her injuries weren’t as bad as they had looked. 

Fili gathered his child to him and lifted him into his arms. Kili followed suit, carrying Alfrun against his hip and taking Gili’s small hand in his free one. 

Gili made a small discontented noise. “Up too, Ada!” He lifted his hands to be picked up. 

Kili shook his head in response. “I can’t carry both of you, Alfie’s hurt. You can walk for now.” 

“I’m hurt too, see?” Gili opened his mouth wide and pointed to his missing tooth. 

“That tooth was missing yesterday, Gili…” Kili replied, smiling down at his son and then back at his uncle. He mouthed the words “Thank you” to Thorin before leaving to tend to the rest of his daughter’s injuries. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re not elves, are we Ada?” asked Gili sometime later. Kili had just bathed them and was getting the twins ready for bed. Alfrun, sleepy from her ordeal, was more pliant than usual, dressing herself without complaint. Gili, on the other hand, was a ball of energy, and his father had to wrestle him into his night clothes as they sat on the children’s bed. 

Kili looked down at the face of his small son. The boy’s features were a mix of the Durins. He had dark brown eyes; finely cut dwarfish features, thick heavy brows. His hair color and pointed ears were the only trace of the elf in him. The archer glanced quickly at his daughter, cuddling sleepily against him. Her face was a mirror of his own, carved in Tauriel’s sharp angles. She had inherited his feathery lashes, his dark hair and Thorin’s blue eyes. It was sometimes disconcerting to see his uncle’s intensity staring back at him from the face of his own child. 

He had always known this conversation would come up but he had expected it to be much farther in the future. Gently, the dwarrow pulled both his children onto his lap. 

“Actually, Gili, you are. But only half,” he began, sighing lightly into their hair. “Your amad was an elf.” He had only told them the bare bones of what had happened to their mother. They knew that they had had one, but she was gone. 

The boy looked up at him in wide-eyed disbelief. “But we’re dwarves, like you?” he questioned skeptically. Alfrun’s eyes at his side had grown the size of saucers.

“Aye, you are. Like me and Uncle Fili,” he added, knowing how much his children looked up to his older brother. “You are both.”

“Elves are bad,” Alfrun whispered quietly, stifling a yawn with the back of her small hand. 

“Not all of them,” Kili corrected softly. “Your mother saved my life more than once.” He felt a twinge in his chest. It still hurt to talk about his lost love sometimes, but it was time for their children to know about her. 

He went on. “She was kind and fearless, with red hair, just like yours,” the brunet ran a hand playfully over his son’s head, rustling his hair into his face. The dwarfling squealed in response, batting his father’s hands away in mock indignation. 

“Your amad was a fighter, just like you, Alfie. She could launch her arrows twice as far as I can,” Kili said, bopping the girl child on the nose. She scrunched her nose at him, smiling broadly. 

“Where is she? Didn’t she love us?” Gili asked earnestly. The looks on his children’s faces broke Kili’s heart.

“She loved you both very much, but she got sick, and she died,” he answered succinctly, cuddling them both to his chest. He felt two sets of small hands wind themselves around him, Alfrun’s on his neck and Gili’s around his middle. They seemed to sense his sadness and were trying their best to banish it. 

“I love you, Ada,” Alfrun told him in her small voice, kissing him lightly on the cheek. 

“Me too!” piped his son, his face stuffed against his father’s stomach. 

A bittersweet smile crossed the dwarrow’s face as he maneuvered his children into their bed. 

“I love you too,” Kili answered, tucking his offspring in, kissing them on their foreheads.  
He rose lightly from the bed as his children snuggled together, turning off the light as he left their room and went to his own, his heart heavy with memory.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at around the same time as previous Chapter. 
> 
> Gili and Alfrun are curious about the guests in their grandfather's kingdom.

“You are to stay here. You are not to come out. Do you both understand?” Kili asked sternly, looking down into the faces of his young children. 

“Yes, Ada,” they answered him in unison. 

“You are to stay with Ori at all times,” Kili added, looking at his friend. “Thank you again, Ori.” 

“It’s really no problem,” the scribe answered. “They’re no trouble.” 

Kili smiled at him. “We both know that’s a lie. They are trouble. Always.” 

Alfrun laughed and clung to her father’s leg. He patted her head. “You both be good for Ori, yes? Maybe I’ll bring you back a surprise, but only if you’re good.” 

Gili’s eyes widened. “Will it be a kitten? I want a kitten!” he exclaimed. 

“It won’t be a kitten. I was thinking more like one of Grandpa Bilbo’s special cookies.” 

That was it, he’d said the magic words. His twins loved the hobbit’s cooking more than anything else in the world. They would do anything he wanted to get them, but he couldn’t use them too often. 

“We’ll be so good, Ada!” Gili promised, practically drooling at the mere mention of the baked goods. 

“Bring a lot of cookies, Ada?” Alfrun added, hammering the point home. 

“Yes, yes,” Kili laughed, kissing them each on the head before leaving. He had a banquet with the delegation from Mirkwood and, truth be told, he would rather spend the night in his rooms with the twins than dancing around the elves. 

Unfortunately, as one of Thorin’s heirs, he didn’t have a choice. Having the elves, especially the Elvenking’s son, in the mountain and this close to his children made him very uneasy. The elven prince had made his opinion on Tauriel’s children very clear the last time Kili had seen him , and the archer was taking no chances. 

He strode off to find Fili, trying to leave his unease behind him.

 

It didn’t take long for the twins to think of a way to get away from Ori’s supervision . 

“Let’s play hide and go seek!” Gili suggested cheerfully. He met his sister’s eyes and she instantly knew what he was up to. 

“Yeah, that sounds fun!” she added, looking to their baby-sitter. Poor Ori had no idea what he was in for. The other times he had babysat, the twins had still been small, barely crawling. 

“Yes ,” he agreed, putting down his things on the table. “I’ll count and you hide. Remember what your father said, in your rooms only.” 

“No peeking, Master Ori!” Gili responded, grabbing his sister’s hand. 

As Ori began to count, the twins dashed for their bedroom and crept out through the back door. 

The hallway outside their quarters was barren, as every dwarf in the royal wing was at the banquet. Gili led, creeping along the corridor ahead of him, and Alfrun followed, keeping an eye behind them so they wcouldn’t be surprised. 

They wanted to see the elves so badly, but every time they brought it up, their father got angry. They had settled for asking Grandpa Bilbo as many questions as they could muster. He had even taught them all the elvish he knew, with the permission of their Ada, and a promise that they wouldn’t tell their Udad. They practiced in secret, whispering to each other as they curled against each other like cats at night. They’d even taught their cousin Frerin, and it had become their clandestine language for mischief. 

The banquet halls weren’t far from their wing, and they decided that going through the kitchen was probably their best bet. There were all sorts of crevices they could use to spy on what was going on without being seen.

Music filled the lower halls, and dwarves bustled in and out of the kitchen with trays, laden will all kinds of food. Gili and Alfrun stopped around the corner from the kitchens.

“I’ll go first and you follow me, okay?”

“Okay” Alfrun replied, nodding her head slowly. Her stomach was a flurry of butterflies. They were finally going to see the elves! 

She watched her brother as he tiptoed with bare feet around the corner and scurried for the opposite corner. A moment later, he waved his hand, signaling for her to follow. Giving one final look behind her, she made a dash for her brother, but instead ran into a very tall pair of legs, knocking herself to the floor. 

Startled, Alfrun looked up, and found herself caught in a pair of big blue eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her face bright red at being caught. The man bent down slowly, dropping to the dwarfling’s level. He had a kind face, with long blond hair and pointed ears. 

“You're an elf!” she blabbered, her eyes growing wide with excitement. 

“That I am, little one,” he replied softly. “Are you alright?” 

Embarrassed, Alfrun scrambled to her feet. “I'm fine,” she insisted, dusting herself off, more for show than for anything else. Behind the stranger's legs, she could see her brother, peeking out from behind the corner. 

Seeing her glance, the elf looked behind him, finding another small dwarfling staring at him. 

“I'm Alfrun, and this is my brother, Gili, at your service,” she blathered, bowing. Gili crept forward timidly, bowing but not taking his eyes off of the elf. 

“My name is Legolas,” he answered, smiling down at them. “Why aren't you in bed? It seems late for little ones to be up.” 

“We wanted to see the elves. Ada wouldn't let us come,” Gili said, finally recovered from his bout of shyness. 

“Why not? Were you in trouble?” Legolas asked, kneeling in front of the twins. 

“No!” Alfrun insisted loudly. She couldn't contain herself. “Ada doesn't like elves.”

The blond gave her an odd look. “Oh? Why not?” 

“He just doesn't. Every time we ask, he gets grumpy, but Grandpa Bilbo teached us elvish!” Gili butted in, clearly not happy with taking second fiddle to his sister.

“Grandpa Bilbo?” 

Now it was the twins’ turn to give the elf an odd look. “Yes, Grandpa Bilbo. He teached us and Frerin,” Alfrun explained, her tone superior. 

“Frerin?” Legolas questioned, a furrow of confusion coming to rest between his eyes. 

“Our cousin,” Gili supplied helpfully. 

“Where are your parents?” the elf asked, getting to the point. 

Both children grew suddenly quiet, looking at each other mournfully. Alfrun was the one who finally broke their silence. 

“Our Amad is dead. She was an elf like you. Our Ada is with Uncle Fili,” she murmured, her small hands clutching her night dress. 

Legolas' eyes widened. These were Tauriel's children? But as he looked, taking in the delicate nature of their faces, it made sense. He could see that the set of their eyes and the build of their bodies weren't entirely dwarrow, more like elven features carved in dwarven stone. 

His heart softened, thinking of his friend: Tauriel, who hadn't used him for his position, who liked him for him, who stood up to his father and endured through exile and bigotry. The newborns he'd last seen in Dale had grown into something entirely unexpected. It would seem he had underestimated the dwarvish prince. 

“Do you know how to play tag?” he asked suddenly, a smile tugging at his lips. 

The twins looked startled at the suggestion, but the shock was soon replaced by gleeful smiles. “Yes, we do!” Gili chimed in, the tension melting quickly out of his small body. 

“Tag!” Legolas cried, tapping him lightly on the shoulder and dashing away from the kitchen, down another dark hallway. 

The dwarfling squealed, hurtling after him. Alfrun followed suit, darting away from her brother as fast as her tiny legs could carry her. 

The elven prince slowed, allowing the small child to catch him, and then ran after the small girl. She shrieked, coming after him. 

They played back and forth, until hurried running footsteps sent the twins scurrying for a corner, leaving Legolas standing out of breath in the hallway. 

Ori ran around the corner, looking around frantically. He bowed, when he saw the elf. 

“Good evening, your highness,” he said politely. “Have you seen two small dwarflings? Prince Kili's children out of bed?” 

Legolas shook his head. “No, Master Dwarf, no little ones here.” 

Ori nodded his thanks and took off at a run again, heading for the banquet hall. 

Gili popped out from behind the wall first. “He's going to get Ada!” 

“We're gonna be in so much trouble!” Alfrun added quickly. 

“Not if you get back to bed first,” Legolas whispered conspiratorially at them. “Hurry!” 

They grinned and dashed down the hallway, leaving the prince with a light spirit but a heavy heart. 

 

After checking that his children were alright, (Seriously Ori, they were hiding in their bedsheets the whole time. Don't scare me like that!), Kili walked the corridors back to the banquet. After playing politics, he was exhausted. He didn't have the same natural aptitude for it like Fili did, or even the same inherent majesty as Thorin. All he wanted to do was retire to his room. 

He was just about to enter the hall when he saw a familiar unwelcome figure slouching by the door. 

“Greetings, Prince Kili,” Legolas said softly, barely looking at him. 

Kili wanted to growl at him, the hair on the back of his neck standing in agitation, but something about the elf made him stop. He looked... sad, not the angry warrior he had met some time ago. 

“Hello, Your highness,” he answered, looking at the elf questioningly. 

“I underestimated you. I thought you would squash any elvishness out of them,” Legolas said, looking at Kili, his eyes glistening strangely. “Deny their mother, and deny their heritage.” 

“She is just as much a part of them as I am,” Kili replied, still slightly confused by the prince of Mirkwood's sudden change of heart. “I can't forget her, I won't let them either.” 

Legolas pulled himself up to his full height, towering over the archer. “Thank you,” he said simply and headed into the banquet hall. 

Kili stood in the archway for a moment, puzzling over what had just happened. The elven prince had never met his children, Kili made sure of that... Or had he? 

Turning his back on the feast, he broke into a sprint back the way he'd come. There were some dwarflings who would be getting no cookies tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much to my beta, Beng.
> 
> Any ideas and suggestions for further chapters are appreciated!


End file.
